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#The Revolution Band
firelise · 4 months
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Chevalier de Saint-Georges aka Cunty McBitch Pants
CHEVALIER (2023)
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I love being a fan of queen and the beatles because you're listening to and album and there's a heavy metal song about helter skelters then a few tracks later is an 8-minute-long avant-garde song where most of the lyrics is just someone saying "number 9" repeated a ridiculous number of times or you're listening to an album and there's a rock love song addressed to a car and a few tracks later is a folk-ballad about einstein's theory of special relativity
to everyone who isn't a fan of either of these bands: I'm not making these up, these are all actual songs that exist.
And the funniest part is I could've used weirder examples from these albums as well - like The Prophet's Song, an eight-minute-long prog rock song about noah's ark, or Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except Me And My Monkey which I feel is self-explanatory
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atomic-chronoscaph · 9 months
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Around The World In A Day - Prince And The Revolution - Album cover art by Doug Henders (1985)
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March 1964 - Farrokh Bulsara with his family fled the Zanzibar Revolution, moving to Middlesex, England
🔸Freddie’s parents, Jer and Bomi Bulsara, chose Feltham as Jer already had a sister living in the area and the family moved into number 22 Gladstone Avenue in autumn 1964. Seventeen year old Freddie took an A-level in art at Isleworth Polytechnic followed by a Diploma in Graphic Art and Design at Ealing College of Art, supporting himself with a variety of jobs, including washing dishes in the kitchens at nearby Heathrow Airport. It was while studying at Ealing that Freddie met future Queen guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor.
Kashmira recalls how while living on Gladstone Avenue, her brother was always sketching for his college art work – sometimes calling on her to model for him – or tapping his fingers and humming as if thinking of his next song. A natural musician, Gladstone Avenue was where Freddie really began to explore his musical talent, listening to the likes of Cream and his hero, Jimi Hendrix in his bedroom at the back of the house; there is a 1968 photograph of Freddie in his bedroom posing in the manner of Hendrix with a borrowed Fender Stratocaster. Kashmira also remembers how he loved watching Tom & Jerry cartoons and collecting cuttings of Andy Capp comic strips from the daily newspaper and how he spent hours grooming his hair – much to her annoyance as the house had only one bathroom.
Dr Brian May said: It was here that I first visited Freddie soon after we had met through a mutual friend. We spent most of the day appreciating and analysing in intimate detail the way that Jimi Hendrix had put his recordings together in the studio - listening to Hendrix on vinyl played on Freddie's Dansette record player - which had stereo speakers on opposite sides of the box! Feltham was the childhood neighbourhood for both of us but we never knew it until we met in the cause of music.”
➡️ Source freddiemercury.com
Pic: 1977 at Stafford Terrace (Freddie's house) - Freddie Mercury and his parents, Bomi (1908-2003) and Jer Bulsara (1922-2016)
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jcsupermarket · 7 months
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ive been so inactive HAI! im feeling better mentally so have some photos of the old man ♡
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the-meme-monarch · 3 months
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do you think there could be a weird route with your oc ham? maybe like RadioRaze or something? anyways have a good day!!! :)
i like to think a weird route with ham would be pretty much impossible bc ham is a kinda stubborn and maybe-a-little-mean-on-purpose 12 year old with no allegiances NDNDNHSJ she’d find out lancer was in your inventory and just talk to him the whole time and ignore you and the only reason he doesn’t immediately ditch you for trying to tell her what to do is bc lancer is there and he wants to talk to him bc he seems like fun. have a good day too :]
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☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
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spacedoutman · 1 month
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【𝕻𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕮𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖘 𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 | 𝕬𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖚 】
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(𝕺𝖓𝖊 𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙)
Description: Brigadier general Criss is paying for the consequences he very well knew could be dished out to him for spying. What he didn't expect? For his love madame Ace Frehley to be the one to turn him in.
♥ Peter Criss x Ace Frehley
Notes: I wrote this on a whim and I don't even know what the fuck it is all I know is that Gel Gibson's face is now haunting me like a ghost and I'm upset (Art is a self portrait by John Andre)
Warnings: Crackfic | satire
!𝖆𝖔3
Bright green grass as vibrant as a portrait blew behind the field locked away by thin row of trees. A soft breeze rolled through, pushing the clouds through the vivid blue sky. The leaves shook, interrupting the singing birds. Peter smiled. His heart slowed as his shoulders fell. The sun shone lightly, yet left a slight haze where it touched.
Peter turned. He couldn’t wipe away his smile though his heart twisted inside. Two continental soldiers pulled him back gently. Peter took a deep breath. The smell of wildflowers and savory roasted meat filled his lungs.
“Come on, sir Criss.” Gene Simmons said solemnly. “To the gallows with you.”
Peter kept his head high as every accomplishment he made flashed not only in his head, but on his ocean blue coat. Gene and Paul took his arms and walked him forward. The trees almost made a path leading to the solemn thing. Wooden planks pasted together to make a platform. The rope swayed from side to side as the wind puffed against it, seeming to glint in the sun.
Peter’s legs stiffened as he walked up the stairs. Every deep breath he took fought his growing tenseness. He kept his eyes in front of him. At least he got to look at the faces he loved one last time. His nerves were calm as a river after a storm. Gene helped him onto the stool. There wasn’t an angry face in the crowd, just distraught. Peter wore a straight face.
“Why don’t you untie me so I may die like a dignified man and with a fixed cravat?” He said solemnly, keeping his chin high.
Gene walked around to the back of him and pulled the rope from his hands. Paul came around with the wheat sack. Peter scoffed. Paul’s eyes widened slightly. He wore a tight frown. “What is this?” Peter sneered, sweeping his arms out beside him. He looked around, raising an eyebrow.
“You wish to put that thing over my head and smother my legacy? Let me die like the man I was and am. Ye shall rid of it.” He growled. Paul backed off.
Peter looked out at the distant tents. It was almost like a set up for the toy soldiers he used to play with as a kid. His pearly grin glistened.
Gene stepped back, grabbed a paper and holding it in front of him. The sun touched the crystal tears trickling down his cheeks. He shrunk like a mouse.
“G-George Peter John Criscuola,” Gene’s announced, breaking through a shaky voice. “Or brigadier general Criss.”
Peter opened his coat a bit, displaying the sash hanging from his shoulder and swooping around his waist. “You are to be hanged for your offense of giving valuable information to the British.” Gene’s voice was as formal as he could get. “And now you shall perish with the burden of shame on your shoulders while our God looks down upon you and shakes his head.”
Peter took a deep breath. Gene stepped back, dragging himself to the noose. Peter scanned the faces in the crowd. His eyes shot wide for a split second before he straightened himself out and dusted his shoulders.
“Frehley.”
His eyes stopped at the man who stood at the front, staring up with tears sparkling in his large brown eyes. His white bonnet hid his messy brown hair. The salmon dress he wore was dotted in beautifully embroidered flowers. He dabbed his eyes with the handkerchief. The soldiers snapped to face Ace, who whimpered.
“My last words go to you, my beloved.” Peter Criss said calmly, disappointment strong in his voice. “I may have found my peace, but know I cannot forgive you for the pain you alone have brought upon me.”
Ace sniffled. His shoulders tensed. Peter dug in his pocket. “Catch, my dear.” Ace gently looked up. Peter flipped a silver wedding band like a coin. It spun through the air and into Ace’s open hands. “I was going to ask for your hand in marriage as you were quite the woman.” Ace went back to dabbing his eyes. “But do understand, all good things must end even if it’s rather… grim.”
Paul and Gene pulled Peter back. He stepped onto the stool. Paul blew his nose on his handkerchief. “I’m so sorry.” Paul whispered, tying the noose around Peter’s neck.
“Look into my eyes, Frehley.” Peter said sternly. “Look at what you have caused, my sweet little dove.”
Ace’s eyes flitted to Peter, who stood, shoulders squared, chin up and chest out. His hands were jammed neatly behind his back. He looked regal in his black bi corn hat. A long white ostrich feather hung from the expensive pin on the front. Badges decorated his new, spotless uniform. His champagne breeches were as clean as his white stockings. His leather shoes shone like new.
Peter savored the sight of Ace, who flung his handkerchief over is shoulder. A few soldiers fought like cats to grab it. Ace’s eyes shot ungodly wide. He threw his hands together and fell to his knees. “Oh god, please no!” Devastation made his voice raw. “Peter Criss—My Criss-kitty! I have a deep regard for you!”
Peter nodded again. Paul kicked the stool from under him. Peter fell and started strangling to death. “NOOOOOOOO!” Ace cried, collapsing. He beat the ground with his clenched trembling fist. “Oh g-god!” He wept “Please, please switch me out for him! I would do anything! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”
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prettyfr0mtheback · 2 years
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Bikini Kill performing in Indianapolis
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artstar1997 · 2 months
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Thinking about the EDSA Revolution today made me ponder about Rose and why never forgetting the past means.
In the human au, Rose heard of her long-lost parents from Filipino-Americans and mentioned her as “your mom”. According to them, they told her that her mother, Jasmine Valiente, later Jasmine Madrigal, experience during the Martial Law in the Philippines and the revolution that occurred on February 25 1986 when she was a young woman before she moved to the USA and married her dad. She has been raised by her grandmother, Celestia throughout her life and knows one part of her racial identity until she learned about the other side of her heritage from DJ Suki, who is also half-filipino like herself. Rose struggled to find her racial identity as a teen until she was able to discover the parallels of her ethnicity like struggling for freedom and never forgetting the past that made her who she is.
BTW, since I HC Rose as Filipino-African American (my VC for Rose is H.E.R and you’ve seen what her parents look like), she has her father’s good looks, her mother’s black hair color that was bleached platinum blonde from an accident, the mix of thick, textured wavy hair, and a lighter mix of their skin colors that made her look like a Pre-Colonial Filipino. She is also wearing clothes and accessories that pay tribute to her dual heritage.
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fantazulio · 3 months
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it's the owl house's fourth anniversary today, so I thought I'd dump a bunch of logoswaps I made over the past month or so
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c10v3r · 9 months
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what if they were bandmates....... and in love..............
part 74 of me mixing my interests together that have no correlation whatsoever todays episode is no straight roads !!!!!!
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monkeesmvs · 1 year
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Listen to the Band (Short) From 33⅓ Revolutions Per Monkee
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sendmyresignation · 3 months
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finally reading dance of days (thank you ohiolink and oberlin college <3) but my most consistent takeaway thus far. is oh my god. people who think punk is primarily ideological and not subcultural/musical. are so out of touch.
#three thought threads excuse it but okay.#first as much as dc punk was not political for much of its history (revolution summer/positive force nonwithstanding im talking oldschool)#i do think the structure of diy and creating an alternative subculture economy is more radical than. making an antireagan song lmao.#even if i think the result was a bit of a failure. the intention was significant! imagine a world where artists do not have to contort#themselves to majors and can be supported by an alternate network of payment and such. would be nice if the arbitrary ideas#of like 5 dollar shows and zero pr and not fighting for what your worth didnt infest that ideology but whateves#okay then also. what the fuck how did i not know the bad brains homophobia was that bad. anyway.#third thread. hilarious that dc punks were.. hesitant to work with positive force bc of its association with revolutionary communist party#lol lmao even. now that im sufficently deep into these tags i can say what all this made me think of which is that#oh my god mcr is a punk band. well theyre more than a punk band but they unequivically came up in punk. they are based in punk. their first#lbum is a posthardcore record without question. in the context of punk as a MUSICAL SUBGENRE mcr is under that umbrella#more than they are Most Other Things#mcr is punk in the outsider-opposition sense which was as defined as some poltics were for a lot of early bands#and shit like black flag which my chem drew on was not textually very political at all it was a subcultural thing#equal opposite force to The Establishment. charting your own path even if it meant fighting for it#obv though black parade barely qualifies as a punk record it was an evolution for them#(and a really interesting zigzag since many of its influences are 70s rock- the very thing og punk was reacting against!#but which now represented a past oldschool rocknroll (esp with glam))#anyyyway#my posts
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stairs-feooff · 1 year
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I will get mcr fans into first and second wave emo if it kills me
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